The Swallows have gone
18th September 2014
The Swallows Have Gone
The swallows have gone. Recently they had been very visible perched on the telephone wires, like pegs on an empty clothes line, but now they have gone.
The first Swallow I saw this year was on the 11th April. I was high up on Caw Moss, above Torver and the Swallow was flying against a strong north east wind. It was another typically dull, wet and cold day and with no obvious insect life for my long distant tourist to eat. However, the swallows solitary presence, flying low over this wild and wet landscape, was like a candle brought into a dark room. This one swallow was an emissary of summer, bringing light, heralding the change of seasons and the promise of warmer and longer days. From this moment on` I was constantly scanning the sky for more swallows to arrive. Each returning visitor was a confirmation that, despite the local wet and wild conditions, things were soon to change.
It is now 6 months later and Summer's emissaries have taken their leave, and with them their brightness follows. I don't know exactly when the swallows left (within the last five days) but they have gone more immediately than they arrived. Their departure not only means lonelier skies, but their migration is a portent to the colder and darker days to come.
Added to the sad departure of the Swallow, another symbol of seasonal change was taking place in the form of migrating geese. Today I saw hundreds upon hundreds of geese flying off South.
I was walking over the Coniston Fells and throughout day there was flock after flock of geese, arranged into their 'arrow headed' flight, all moving along the same North to South line. Their discordant 'Honking' calls reverberating around the rocky hillsides.
I would first see each flock emerge above the undulating skyline of the Langdale Pikes, steering an unerring course over Wrynose Pass, tracking along the Duddon Valley, towards Black Combe, and then away and gone over the estuary towards the southern horizon. A mass migration with one unhesitatingly aim in mind, to leave the colder landscape of the North lands.
I do love the changing seasons, where each period has distinct and unique characteristics. On my many walks through the British landscape I encounter a changing texture of colours and smells, combined with the seasonal behaviour changes of wild animals. I look forward to the cold, crisp days and get extremely excited when snow covers the tops. However, I am constantly looking over my shoulder, scanning the skies for the return of that swallow and waiting to hear the clamour of the geese.
"If hands could free you, heart,
Where would you fly?
Far, beyond every part
Of earth this running sky
Makes desolate? Would you cross
City and hill and sea,
If hands could set you free?"
The swallows have gone. Recently they had been very visible perched on the telephone wires, like pegs on an empty clothes line, but now they have gone.
The first Swallow I saw this year was on the 11th April. I was high up on Caw Moss, above Torver and the Swallow was flying against a strong north east wind. It was another typically dull, wet and cold day and with no obvious insect life for my long distant tourist to eat. However, the swallows solitary presence, flying low over this wild and wet landscape, was like a candle brought into a dark room. This one swallow was an emissary of summer, bringing light, heralding the change of seasons and the promise of warmer and longer days. From this moment on` I was constantly scanning the sky for more swallows to arrive. Each returning visitor was a confirmation that, despite the local wet and wild conditions, things were soon to change.
It is now 6 months later and Summer's emissaries have taken their leave, and with them their brightness follows. I don't know exactly when the swallows left (within the last five days) but they have gone more immediately than they arrived. Their departure not only means lonelier skies, but their migration is a portent to the colder and darker days to come.
Added to the sad departure of the Swallow, another symbol of seasonal change was taking place in the form of migrating geese. Today I saw hundreds upon hundreds of geese flying off South.
I was walking over the Coniston Fells and throughout day there was flock after flock of geese, arranged into their 'arrow headed' flight, all moving along the same North to South line. Their discordant 'Honking' calls reverberating around the rocky hillsides.
I would first see each flock emerge above the undulating skyline of the Langdale Pikes, steering an unerring course over Wrynose Pass, tracking along the Duddon Valley, towards Black Combe, and then away and gone over the estuary towards the southern horizon. A mass migration with one unhesitatingly aim in mind, to leave the colder landscape of the North lands.
I do love the changing seasons, where each period has distinct and unique characteristics. On my many walks through the British landscape I encounter a changing texture of colours and smells, combined with the seasonal behaviour changes of wild animals. I look forward to the cold, crisp days and get extremely excited when snow covers the tops. However, I am constantly looking over my shoulder, scanning the skies for the return of that swallow and waiting to hear the clamour of the geese.
"If hands could free you, heart,
Where would you fly?
Far, beyond every part
Of earth this running sky
Makes desolate? Would you cross
City and hill and sea,
If hands could set you free?"